


Here Be Dragons

by Dragoodle



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24233416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragoodle/pseuds/Dragoodle
Summary: Technology raced for the skies; next to the Air Fleets, nautical exploration is decades behind. Nearly ninety percent of the oceans are unexplored and between the planet's two largest powers an entire species thrived. Now, ShinRa Power is expanding their reach to the edge of the map, but they've been warned: 'Here be Dragons'.
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough/Tifa Lockhart
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

## CHAPTER ONE

"I understand that it was only a few hours after this incident that an additional two bodies were found – let's see," Heidegger opens his file, flipping to the highlighted areas, "that would be the morning of the eighth."

"Yes," Palmer starts quiet before clearing his throat and unbuttoning the front of his waistcoat. "Yes," he starts again, louder, "at two different locations. The first occurring at Latitude 33° 43' S, Longitude 15° 59' W-"

"That's just off their trading post, yes?"

Palmer swallows as he looks over his file at Rufus Shinra reclined at the head of the table, leather boots resting on his copy of the report. Palmer addresses him with a nod, "Indeed. About three miles off."

Scarlet, Head of Munitions, snorts before covering the sound with a forced laugh. "That's _just_ off Junon Marina." She turns a blonde curl about her finger while glancing impassively through her file. She doesn't need to finish the collective thought.

"I actually think it was done-" Palmer attempts to take control again.

"And the other two bodies? Where were they found?" Rufus interrupts, removing a cigar from the front of his suit. The dark haired man behind his seat extends a cutter without request. "Thank you, Tseng."

"Emerald Reef. The bodies were found anchored to the coral with fishing nets," Palmer tugs at the pinching button of his collar, "scalped."

Heidegger quickly shuffles through his papers, turning over the entire report while glancing at Palmer. He holds up a thick finger and repeatedly wets his lips as if preparing to interject.

Palmer smiles wide enough to show his gold caps. "Oh, you won't find the autopsies in your versions, only the S.I.O. has them."

There's a quick exchange between Scarlet and Heidegger; his dark beard doing nothing to hide the contortion of anger. Scarlet cuts a red rimmed smile.

"Well," she prompts Palmer with a light tone, "is there evidence, in _your professional opinion,_ to identify the fish?"

"Murderer," Palmer corrects.

"Hmmm?"

He stands from his chair with some effort, pinching close his brown waistcoat and beginning to walk the length of the table. "There's a sophistication to these murders, and by human standards, a repeating M.O. that would suggest _one_ killer."

Rufus takes a puff of his cigar, righting himself in his seat while he looks through the smoke at Palmer. There's silence a moment as the President observes the elected official. He taps off on the corner of the mahogany. "You're suggesting that the population can't be held responsible."

It's not a question, but Palmer answers anyway, turning his back on the President to begin his pace down the table. It does nothing to hide the smile in his voice: "Precisely, Mr. President."

"There's simply not enough evidence to translate this to a terrorist attack-"

"What about the distance?" Heidegger leans forward over his stomach, sliding his highlighted map to the center of the table. Everyone else is too busy creeping forward to notice Palmer huff.

"The first body is found just off the trading post here," Heidegger makes a crude black circle. "The other two bodies are found…here." The second circle rests on the tip of the Dragon Peninsula. "Now, what does the autopsy suggest the time between the two crimes are?"

The room's eyes shift to Palmer still standing aside the table; he can feel the heat around his cheeks and forehead. "Approximately two hours between the two-"

"So," Heidegger begins again, " _you're_ saying, that in _less than two hours_ ," he pushes every syllable through his teeth, "one person murdered a fully trained Junon Solider," Palmer opens his mouth to speak but Heidegger holds up another thick finger before licking his lips. " _Scalps_ him, then _swims_ twenty-some _miles_ to magically run into two more fully trained Junon Soliders and murder them as well."

Silence. Heidegger leans back in his seat and strokes his beard, making no show to hide his grin. "Well?" he prompts.

Palmer stuffs his hands in his pockets and huffs for his words, pacing more frantically. "Well…" he begins, pinched red in the face. "It's not as if we've gotten one of them in the tank for a speed run. You have to understand, on land they average around six feet, in the water closer to seven. Are you suggesting a fish couldn't make the distance? A dragon?"

"Oh, I have no qualms about their speed in the water, but the fact that they would need to bee-line immediately after the first incident to the second to accomplish what you're suggesting was performed by _one_ creature is a pretty fantastical turn of luck. Add that luck to the fact that the last transmission by that patrol was a note of investigation off their normal course – it sounds like they were lured."

Rufus takes another puff of his cigar. "Spell it out, Heidegger."

"Sir," the large man in the green suit stands level with Palmer and waddles to the office windows overlooking the harbor. "This was a coordinated attack on Junon Officials. The routes these boats took were scheduled and common. The killers planned, tracked, and struck in unison and left behind a blatant calling card of sacrificial-"

" _Bullshit_ ," Palmer throws his report to the floor. "There is no evidence to suggest multiple assailants. We don't know the properties or power of these things, nor do we know their motivations," he punctuates his words with spit, but makes no show to wipe away his aggression. "We don't have _enough_ to take the kind of action you're throwing your money at. I'm sorry, Mr. President, but I can't go to public for taxes to help fund a _war_ so you can build another off-shore economic stronghold in Junon's goddamn front yard."

Distantly the horn of a Destroyer sounds as it begins to disembark towards the Dragon Sea; probably scheduled for the Red Ocean around Wutai.

Palmer smooths back the little white hair he has left and wipes his mouth. Bending to retrieve his report, Rufus Shinra stands from his seat and pushes the tip of his cigar into the table.

"When is reelection?" he twists twice and leaves a dark mark in the wood.

Palmer glares. "Three months, Sir."

"Then you have three months."

* * *

"The phrase: 'here be dragons' was popularized in 1504 with the exploration of the Gold Coasts. Maps would be printed with images of dragons or sea serpents to indicate unexplored or dangerous territories, and became permanent frames around maps for decades during the colonization of the islands in the Red Ocean."

Professor Aeris Gainsborough stands center podium in the Candle Auditorium. The rotunda design throwing her voice about the stadium seating between the scratch of pen and low murmurs. She gestures to the modern map behind her.

"It's thought that these sea monsters were picked due to the mythology surrounding Leviathan." She steps from the podium, small in stature, and begins to pace the marble in clicks. "So, you have massive expansion and exploration of the Eastern culture into areas already populated by decedents of the Leviathan Tribes – no surprise that their area of the map would appear with these cultural images, no?"

She motions to the closest row of students. Someone nods.

" _Yes, what_?" She prompts the row with both hands, touching her eyes to theirs and smiling.

"Yes, it makes sense that the expansion into Wutai territories would result in some Eastern influence in map making," someone agrees from the crowd.

"Thank you," she chimes, beginning to pace back the other way. "But _what if_ the appearance of Leviathan on the map wasn't just two cultures coming together to help fill in the corners of navigation, but an _actual sighting_ of Leviathan as late as the 1500s?"

Aeris pauses in her stride to square off with her students. There's a slight shift in volume; stray whispers.

" _What if_ , like the Condor for the Phoenix Tribe, the Leviathan has decedents as late as the 1500s?"

A hand shoots up from the crowd. Aeris smiles and nods. The gentleman who stands is tall with long dark hair and a square jaw. "Zack Fair, Professor," he introduces himself with a flamboyant bow and the voice of the previous answerer: "What about the _mermaids_ off the coast of Junon, wouldn't they be classified as direct decedents of Leviathan?"

"Cetra," she corrects. "They don't take too kindly to being confused with fairytales."

"So, you've spoken with these Cetra? Know them pretty well?"

Aeris turns on her heels to hide her smile and clicks towards the podium. "No. But a colleague of mine, Cloud Strife, is currently doing dives in that area. I believe he has the most on-hand experience with the Cetra."

"I hear he also has a dashingly handsome partner." Zack winks before seating himself again.

The professor motions for the lights. "I'd have to disagree, Mr. Fair – but, to answer your question: No. The Cetra are not direct decedents of the Leviathan." A hazy wash of white light fills the projection screen, silhouetting Aeris' figure before the class.

There's a cat call followed by laughter. She ignores both and instead searches through her slides, continuing to explain:

"It's well supported in the scientific community that the Cetra lived thousands of years ago and _we_ are direct descendants of _them_. Looking through their timeline culturally, like us, they divided civilizations by beliefs and worships of their gods like Phoenix and Leviathan."

She picks out a single slide, holding it up to the cast of the projector to study it herself for a moment, lost in thought with an intense expression.

"And, like us, they had different races. The Cetra of the Leviathan Tribe are merely a different race from the more consistently humanoid Cetra image from the North."

Gingerly, she sets the slide to the projector, silencing the last few strands of conversation at once.

Cast before her audience is the image of a single man. His face is framed with long dark hair held weightless by water, an unnaturally pale complexion in stark comparison. The features are gaunt, with high-angled cheek bones and deep sunken eyes that do little to hide the sickly glow of scarlet irises. Thin blue tinted lips are pulled back over rows of pointed teeth much more shark than human.

The skin around his nose and brow are marred by anger, _snarling_ in a sense. But that's not the strangest thing.

At the hip, his pale flesh trades for dark scales tapering to a thick tail that fans out in two transparent fins. The photograph barely picks up the circular emblem carved into his chest.

"Mermaids are what the locals call them, but that sells them short. They average about seven feet in the water. Eyes are able to see lower spectrums of light to help in depths. Teeth mimic that of most predatory fish to help with their diet."

Aeris glances out into the faces of her students. " _These_ are Ancients. Part of a civilization that is _thousands_ of years old – thought extinct within _this_ decade, resting in the middle of two of the Planet's largest technological powers. So now, the question is: what else is down there with them?"

She steps again from the center podium and motions towards her students.

"Technology raced for the skies. Compared to the Air Fleets, nautical transportation and exploration is decades behind. Ninety percent of the Planet's oceans unexplored." Aeris motions to them again, underlining her point with her hands.

Another student stands. "Professor," he recognizes her with a bowed head, "are you suggesting that you think the Leviathan is still alive?"

Aeris grins. "That's _exactly_ , what I'm suggesting." She claps her hands together to signal the lights. "But I'll leave a cliffhanger to ensure you come back after break. Enjoy."

The auditorium bursts with voices as the students pick up their things and file down the aisles for the doors; most still echoing the lecture and all seeing their professor out with a smile or wave. Zack Fair is the only person left seated when the crowd clears out.

Aeris is wiping down the chalkboard.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" She finally asks, rubbing her hands in a billow of dust. She doesn't need to turn around to see his grin.

"Like to admit that I came for pleasure, but, _alas,_ I'm here on business."

Zack stands from his seat with a briefcase, making a point to tuck it under his arm, and files down to the main floor. It's only three strides across the room before she meets him halfway into a bear hug. She laughs as he lifts her.

"It's been too long, Aeris. Looking good for a stuffy professor."

"How the hell are you?" she shoves him playfully. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming? I could have met you for lunch. Where's Cloud?"

"Up to his balls in chum," Zack winks, "you know how he _loves_ his work."

Aeris nods, tugging them towards the far mahogany desk. "How is your work going? Certainly timed well with the lesson." She pulls the chair for him before hopping onto the desktop.

Zack picks some papers aside before seating himself. "All the same bullshit. Big grants pushing bigger agendas and not a dime paid to look at what we have to show." He sighs. "But that's actually why I'm here."

"You never could come just to visit."

There's silence a moment as Zack takes a minute to observe the briefcase he'd fastened under his arm. He opens the case to a single item – an envelope, neatly sealed in red wax with the Junon Gold Nation mark. With anther flamboyant flourish, he presents the document to Aeris and waits.

She reads it twice.

"This is a contract," she says.

"Mmhm." He taps the single page. "Three months to accurately map the Cetra population."

"To what end?" She turns the contract over to observe the catch 22; alas, blank on the back.

Zack shrugs and leans into his seat. "Probably want a bigger target for their missile; no secret that ShinRa wants to send their reactors out to sea."

Aeris pulls her hand through her curls. "Cloud's thoughts?"

"Money is money. He wants to map their population anyway, in the end, it doesn't really matter why we're supposed to be there if we get the same thing."

"Idealistic as always."

Aeris sighs and leans back on her hands, gazing into the dome ceiling of the grand auditorium. Leave the center stage of Cosmo University for a three month vacation under the heel of Gold Nation? Zack examines her profile.

She had always been a pretty girl; fair skin lightly tanned on the cheeks by the Cosmo Summer, large green eyes framed in thick lashes. Zack knew the turn of the fine brow and pink lips well, the tell-tale furrow of lines on her forehead concerning the morality of his proposal.

He guesses that's what Masters Degrees bought: morals.

"You could meet them," he says off-handedly, knowing the flash of her eyes already seal the answer. She meets his smirk with her own.

"Help me pack?"

* * *

The Junon Marina is the industrial seat of the Gold Nation. A title observed by the government because it sounded a lot nicer than "slum". Midgar had slums, Gold Nation was more refined, an engineering miracle that it hadn't slid off the rock-face and into the sea.

The streets are crowded, tailored by side stalls of fish, jewelry, and other marine goods. Zack had never been a patient driver, and Aeris can see him biting his tongue as he inches the car through the main plaza.

It hadn't helped that it had been a very _long_ drive.

"I swear to Gaia, the _freakin_ ' mermaids know how to walk faster than these people." He touches the horn, earning a few nasty looks and some shouts, but the government plates clear the cobblestone street. " _Thank you_ , _assholes_ ," he hisses.

Junon actually reminded Aeris of home – _well, not the city_ – but this seated village didn't get the same construction standards as the gold mechanical wonder above. She wasn't an engineer by any standards, but it was common enough debate that the way the Gold Capital anchored itself into the mountain had displaced a lot of the surrounding landscape.

Heavy rainfall and sea salt left a deadly game of chance to builders. Most property was built upwards on tested security, rather than expanded out. A lot of exposed structural beams and stilts called for a particular style that was popular back North. Icicle Inn had used the same mentality of skywards stacking due to the heavy snowfall.

It comforted her to see the wrapped porches and extended roofs. Many houses having their own system of skybridges above the road, crisscrossing shadows over the hood of the car. Aeris smiled to the nearest shop owner.

"Miss Cosmo yet?" Zack asks, pulling the car off the main road to a less crowded side street. The cobble streets suddenly trade for dirt, winding a little uphill as the car skirts the city.

"Eh, I think I needed a break."

Cloud Strife's office is three doors down from the actual Marina. A dilapidated shed by standards, but boarded to the best drink at Junon's feet: _The Lucky Dolphin_. It had no front yard, but – like most properties – backed onto a dock that fed directly into the Dragon Ocean.

Zack pulls onto a dirt drive-way. It's a (mostly) flattened stretch that drops off ten feet into the rocky end of the bay. A small staircase at the front of the drive leads down to the worn dock, but Aeris notes it'll be a good ten minute walk to the docked ships down the line.

Hard to be secluded in the second largest city, but Cloud had managed.

"Actually," Aeris pushes open her door to the burst of sea salt and mud. "I think I'm going to like it here."

Zack snorts and kills the engine.

Distantly, Aeris can still make out the hum of the main plaza, but the slap of waves and crying gulls are much more refreshing. She takes a deep breath, shaking out her muscles from the drive and letting her curls down.

"Lo and behold, is that a Siren?" Asks a familiar voice.

Aeris turns from the view to meet Cloud Strife's open arms. They embrace warmly, Aeris leaning into the blonde hair to find his ear over the roar of the wind. "Good to see you, Cloud."

He steps from her, intently tracing her features with those blue eyes she remembered so well. "Haven't changed a bit – still beautiful," he gives _that_ small smile.

Zack slams the trunk closed, swinging the bags over his shoulder with ease. He tilts his head towards the shack, "hate to interrupt," he winks at Aeris, "but can we get something to eat. It got real Donner Party in that car for a while."

The living quarters are _cramped_ , to put it nicely. The front door opens to a living/kitchen combo; the walls are tacked with maps while the floor is piled with gear: diving equipment, toolboxes, oxygen tanks, and what smelled like game buckets in the corner.

Zack sets Aeris' bag on the only furniture in the room: a single table and chairs.

"Home sweet home," he chuckles. "Two bedrooms. This is the main living space/lab – don't eat anything in the fridge, most are samples." Cloud makes a face. "That door leads to the bedroom, everyone gets a cot. Bathroom and utilities are behind that door down the steps, and the last door in the corner there leads to the work room. Questions?"

Aeris picks a path to the bedroom door before pulling it ajar. It's entirely empty save for the three single cots and some spare linens. A tiny window exposes a lit plaza.

At least it's clean.

"Not exactly a vacation, is it?" she hides her laugh with a drawn hand.

Cloud shrugs. "We spend more time on the boat anyway."

"Ah, what a fine vessel, I'm sure." She shuts the bedroom door and turns to face her colleagues. "And which of you is the captain?"

The two exchange a look that skirts the edge of a smirk. Zack is the first to speak: "His name's Barret Wallace. And he's a real _Wet Dream_."

Cloud shakes his head before beginning to clear a path around the door. "You'll meet him in the morning. For now, we drink and dine like our college days."

"Whoa," Zack starts, motioning towards the door for Aeris, "I'd prefer it if the lady _kept_ her shirt on this time."

Aeris rolls her eyes. "Zack. That was you. And it wasn't just your shirt."

"I see I left a _big_ impression."

* * *

"So what do you think?" Cloud asks, pulling his thumb around the neck of his beer.

"Of her?" Aeris turns over her shoulder to watch the waitress saunter away. "I think she's your type," she teases.

Cloud throws a peanut at her, catching her square in the jaw. "Of _here_ ," he emphasis the surrounding area with his hands.

 _The Lucky Dolphin_ is a crab shack at best and a tetanus shot at worst. Most of the seating is along the driftwood bar top, or around one of the four pool tables on the floor. There's an unplugged jukebox in the corner, and decorative fishnets weaving across the ceiling. The walls are tacked with newspaper articles, the closest reading:

Local Fisherman Claims his Boat was Eaten by a Seamonster.

Aeris cracks a peanut on the counter. "It's nice. A good change of pace, I think." She taps the article with a polished nail.

"I haven't found them," Cloud says, pausing to take a drink. He points to the article before setting the bottle back down. "I haven't found your Leviathans."

Aeris laughs. "What have you found?"

"Well," he tosses a peanut shell to the pile on the floor, "they aren't migrating. This is a localized population, and if this is the only population, then they're dying."

Aeris already knew that. They both go silent a moment and study their drinks, toasting to the demise of a culture.

"Why now?" she finally asks. "Why did we find them now? You don't think it's strange that we process nautical expeditions for decades, and suddenly they choose to make their presence known?"

Cloud shakes his head. "They're moving inland."

"But you said they don't show patterns of migration."

"It's resource based. They need something inland that they can no longer get where they came from. I don't know why, and unless I get one of them to talk to me, their history will die with them."

He takes another, long, pull on his beer.

"So what are we looking for? Are they like the Northern Cetra?"

"Exactly," Cloud begins again. "In observation, they seem to value the community over the individual. I'm guessing they've populated some large reef for protection, maybe caverns, but it's got to be big enough for all them or chained together somehow."

"Any guess at the depth?" Aeris steeples her fingers under her chin and stares at Cloud through the mirror behind the bar. His hair is matted to one side as he scratches his head, his expression wary.

"No more than a thousand feet. Structurally, they're similar to us, the pressure past that point would cause problems. And they eat smaller fish that need the sunlight to feed."

Aeris turns on the stool to face his profile. "It's simple then – we separate the sea into sections, start with the most likely, and use sonar to map the area. Any large structures we hit, we dive and investigate – move to the next section."

Cloud gives a genuine smile to Aeris' reflection in the mirror. "Which is why we've already started doing exactly that – and why I'm so happy you're here."

He motions for another round. The bartender winks.

At the hour, the noise of the bar had died down to rough mumbles, and the click of pool balls. Distantly, Zack Fair can be heard hustling some of the local dock hands. Aeris takes the bottle graciously, tipping her smile to the waitress.

"I think you're wrong," she says through her teeth as the waitress – Ester, the nametag reads – gives a flirtatious wink to Cloud.

"Hmm?"

"About the Leviathans," she says.

Cloud laughs. It's a full sound that starts in his diaphragm and causes his shoulders to shake. "Are you still peddling that ridiculous theory? Aeris, they found the skeletons – _they're in Wutai_."

"You're as bad as my students. Mermaids come to shore asking for sugar and you don't think dragons exist."

Aeris laughs this time.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

## CHAPTER TWO

They'd dressed at the crack of dawn, Aeris learning that, like Cloud said, most of their time was monopolized in the field. They'd only come inland for her arrival and scheduled to ship out the very next day.

At the hour, the stretch of horizon was still dark, but the thundering city above was already spewing steam and smoke. A massive destroyer sounds its departure for war with a horn. They'd been doing that every few hours.

Cloud said they'd meet their Captain – Barret Wallace- down on the wharf. And that he had two rules:

"Number one: No bullshit," Barret says with a curt expression.

He's a monster of a man, thrice Aeris' size in statue, with a dark complexion. She meekly nods.

"And number two," he casts a scowl over her shoulder at Zack and Cloud. "No Erlenmeyer flasks in the lavatories."

Zack snickers.

Barret is unamused, folding his arms in a manner that accentuates that he is a product of intensive manual labor.

"Can you believe I used to only have one rule?" He asks Aeris before casting a downward glance to a fitted prosthetic on his right arm. "Guess I learned the hard way."

He holds up the limb for inspection under the early morning sun. Cut at the elbow, the replacement is a bright, smooth, silver finish to mask a folded clockwork that allows Barret to stretch its fingers. There's an audible turn and pop of hidden cogs as he flexes the digits into a fist.

Aeris fumbles for her words: "Mr. Wallace, I'm – I'm _so sorry_ ," she turns a disapproving look to the two men at her side, both with ducked heads to hide their expressions. "I knew they were careless idiots…but I guess I just – I just underestimated how-"

Zack snorts, choking back his laughter with a fist as he rights himself.

"Aeris, you should see your face." He extends his arm to Bar **r** et to have the larger man take it in his good hand and pull for a quick, hard, embrace.

" _This is a joke?"_ Aeris asks, appalled. "Joking about losing an appendage is _funny_?" She rounds on Cloud, noticing now the blonde-haired man is barely suppressing a smile. "You too?"

He sidesteps her swat. "I was not involved in this decision." Cloud surrenders with both hands.

Barret booms in laughter a moment before settling. "I'm sorry, girl," he begins, "this was my doing. All the same though, it sounds like you got a bit more sense than these fools."

He extends his good hand to Aeris. "Name's Barret, and it's a pleasure to meet you."

Aeris eyes him skeptically, but shakes on it once. His grip is calloused and firm but does little to distract that someone had painted his fingernails blue.

Cloud steps forward – standing at Barret's shoulder – and sets his hand on the giant's bicep. "Captain Wallace here is the local expert. He's also the only person that'll take us out to the trading post and has been more than essential to our research."

Barret grunts. "If almost drowning six times is _research_ , then yeah, I've been _real_ essential."

"Seven," Zack corrects. He bends to retrieve their equipment from the dock before leaning close to Aeris' ear: "Miss Cosmo _now_?"

Aeris rolls her eyes, picking up her own pack. "So, what's our agenda?"

Cloud explains as they fall in step behind Barret, towards the docks:

"We need to continue outlining their territory and get you up to speed on how to use the sonar. But first, we'll head to the Trading Post so you can get some _hands on_ experience."

He grins at her.

They round a slight bend for the port to open up, making room for larger boats to tie-off. It's brighter on this side of the dock, some of the sun making its way around Junon's silhouette to cast a morning glare. Aeris holds up a hand to shield her eyes; ahead on the right is a man in a brown waistcoat.

"Great," Barret grumbles, the word coming out in a wisp of cold. " _Politics_."

Cloud takes the lead as they approach the man. He's portly with thin grey hair and thick eyebrows. He meets Cloud's extended hand with one of his own, adorned in several chunky, gold, rings. They shake eagerly.

"Good morning," he says, observing Zack and Barret with a nod.

Cloud addresses him with an upturn of his lips. "Palmer. What can we do for you?"

"Oh, I just wanted to extend a personal Gold Nation welcome to the latest addition to our team: Aeris Gainsborough."

Like Cloud, he shakes her hand exuberantly. His palms are sweaty. "Oh, it's a pleasure to meet you," she says, giving a brilliant smile. "I'm extremely excited to be a part of something as important as this – thank you for bringing me on board."

"How could we not my dear? I read your thesis on the way the Cetra genome shaped their cultural history – you're quite the centerpiece of Cosmo University."

" _Wait,_ " Zack interjects. "You graduated?"

"Twice actually."

Barret snorts. "Not that this isn't dandy, but time's a wastin'. Apologies."

"Oh my, yes – obviously – please, don't let me hold up the work."

Palmer excuses himself to the edge of the dock, letting the dark skinned man move by and around the profile of the nearest boat. It's a medium sized Gillnetter with an aft wheelhouse and expansive forward deck. It's trimmed in faded blue with matching curved text on the side that reads: _The Wet Dream_.

Barret is already up the dock and standing aboard, grinning down at Aeris' expression. "She's a woman of class," he exclaims.

"Not the word I would have used," Aeris admits.

Barret chuckles as Zack begins to throw their gear over the railing to him.

"Cloud?" It's Palmer again, still standing in the back. He wets his lips and opens his mouth twice before actually continuing. "There have been a few _incidents-_ nothing to be alarmed over, but I just insist that if you come across anything…" he fishes in the air with a thick hand for the correct word, " _suspicious_ , that you report it through the proper channels."

"The proper channels?"

"Being me. _And only me_."

Cloud makes no motion to respond, and instead, intently stares at Palmer with a handsome expression. Aeris remembers the lines of that look well. Eventually, he speaks just as Palmer begins to shrink under his eyes.

"Will do."

Aeris exchanges a knowing glance with Zack.

"Wonderful." Palmer clasps his hands together. "I'll be out of your hair then, good luck and I look forward to reading about your findings in the near future."

Cloud sees him off with a nod.

Not another word is spoken until Palmer has waddled down the length of the dock, his brown waistcoat out of sight. There are a few other dockhands milling about the area, some politely greet the scientists as they pass, but most keep their distance.

"Not too good with threats, is he?" Zack finally asks collectively. He's tying down their dive equipment, keeping his tone low as he observes the distant workers.

Cloud glances over his shoulder the way Palmer had disappeared. "Probably why he's only the commanding officer for the council and not the president."

"What was he suggesting? What _incidents_?" Aeris asks.

It's no secret that Junon and Midgar were in a pissing contest to see who had the biggest gun. The Gold Nation was the gem of the Eastern Continent's resources and production, Junon the crowning jewel and seat of power second only to Midgar. But that race was closing gap.

But where Midgar turned to Mako Energy that left the city at ransom to the ShinRa Corporation, Junon favored steam, coal, and oil to move its massive hand. Gold Nation still fronted the ruse of Democracy versus Corporatism.

Cloud gives Barret the go-ahead, the boat sputtering to life as Zack helps ease it out of the dock. "No idea. But it seems to me that he's looking for more cards to play."

* * *

The sun is bright by the time they're in open water. The glare hot and powerful as it jostles in the choppy sea waves. Aeris' neck begins to sweat. She has no sea legs and is, instead, using the weathered metal railing around the deck to steady herself.

Zack Fair looks on in a bemused expression, the corner of his lips twisted in a smirk. He's leaning against the wheelhouse with his arms folded across his broad chest. Aeris might consider, for a moment, that the sea breeze and bright morning do his complexion good.

She knows why he's popular.

But then she sees his face and wishes she could make the four feet to slap the expression from him.

The boat tears through a rather violent swell, dousing her in salt and spray; the ocean smearing across the deck in foam. She's soaked. Gathering most of her hair in an elastic band, Zack joins her on the bow, careful not to slip.

He laughs at the look she shoots him. "You've never been on the ocean, have you?"

She wrings her hair, quickly grabbing at the rail as another swell crashes against the boat. "I took an airship to the North for my studies, it's just as grand on the surface." She's shouting against the wind.

"Took me a while to get used to it," he's talking into the shell of her exposed ear. "Bend your knees with the motions. We may be on a boat, but you still have to walk across the ocean in a sense."

"Is this how you get the girls? Fortune cookie poetry?"

Aeris turns to face him, her upturned jaw laying against his as he gazes down at her. She won't back down from his game, inching closer. Another jostle of the boat has the two of them smacking skulls, Zack reeling backwards in a hiss and Aeris massaging the bridge of her nose.

Cloud Strife looks on with a raised brow. "Is he trying to tell you that it's not the size of the ship that matters but the motion in the ocean?" He pauses to examine Zack. "We get it, you have a small penis."

Zack flips Cloud the bird.

"We're getting close," Cloud begins again, addressing Aeris. "We'll be taking the raft to the dock. Barret will anchor soon." He tosses a life vest to her.

The boat begins to crest the waves, slowing as the steam pours from its spout. Barret opens the side door of the wheelhouse, leaning into the breeze and looking over the crew. He mammoths the doorframe.

"Just off port side, ladies," Barret roars over the sputter of the engine. "That limp, red, dick of a dock."

The Trading Post was a large navigational buoy previously used for chaining radio signals to Junon's sea forts. Now it had a reputation as a way station for local fisherman to meet with the Cetra, trading dense fishing routes for equipment. A flat construction of metal, it stretched close to thirty feet, anchored only to the rusted red buoy and free-floating atop the waves.

Aeris shields her eyes against the sun, but can barely make out the distant structure. But she can hear it, the high chime of the bell over the chop of the waves.

"Are they on it?" She asks, sweeping stray hairs from her mouth.

Barret nods, tossing her a dark pair of binoculars from around his neck. "Have a gander at Poseidon in all his glory."

She makes out five figures, four seated and one patrolling the long edge of the post. The hard lines of the frame distinguish him as male, but she can't get a clear read on the seated figures from her distance. All have a mass of dark hair and pale skin. For a moment Aeris thinks she catches the glint of scarlet eyes, but it proves to just be the water's reflection of the tall buoy set in the middle in the Trading Post.

"There's only five," she says.

Zack and Cloud are on the starboard side of the ship, lifting the inflatable raft with little success. Both their faces are pinched red as they manage it over the railing, tossing it to the water blow in a clap. Zack wipes his hands on his jeans, huffing he says:

"There's more. You just can't see 'em," he straightens, pushing his dark hair back. "They _hide_ in the water." He emphasizes the thought with a minute snap of his teeth.

Aeris cringes.

The jostle of waves is worse in the raft; Aeris clings to the tether that runs the perimeter of the craft as Cloud steers them through the brunt of the swells. Zack kneels across from her, securing himself in the same manner as a violent wind tilts the nose of the raft upwards. Cloud throttles through, peaking on top of the waves and bouncing onwards at high speeds.

Aeris thinks to laugh a moment before another violent wave nearly dunks her in the dark open water. She coughs the sound up with the sea water in the bed of the raft.

Zack eyes her apologetically. "You'll get used to that."

Cloud kills the engine when they're a few feet out, the motor sputtering to silence as the crew coasts the gap to the Trading Post. Zack extends off the front of the craft, easing them against the floating dock and tying off.

The pacing figure has moved to the far edge, squaring off at them with impressive height and a stiff posture. He's a lean man closer to seven feet than six with abnormally long, slender, limbs and angled features. He's dressed in a fold of textured white fabric, secured loosely with a leather belt. And like her photograph, he gazes across at them in bright scarlet.

Zack is the first on the platform, taking his time to find his footing before extending his hand to Aeris. He doesn't turn his back to the sitting figures, who – like the man across the buoy – are staring at the scientists. No other humans are on the post.

The closest Cetra is older, his face weathered in wrinkles with a strong jaw. Unlike his companions, his hair is trimmed to the scalp, revealing a long thick scar at the base of his skull. His posture is hunched, collapsed on his chest, his limbs folded around himself. He observes Aeris from the corner of his red eyes.

It isn't until Cloud is pulled ashore that the Cetra peels back thin lips to show rows of pointed teeth; he greets the blonde haired man with a smile.

"Cloud," the old man croaks, his voice is rough, and he has trouble with the Common "D". He unwraps the length of his reach, motioning for Cloud to embrace.

Cloud bends eagerly, embracing the man with a smile of his own. "Rapps," he says, "I was hoping you'd be here."

Rapps releases him, nodding his head in a way to emphasize its weight. "As usual," he muses in a low tone. Visibly, the other seated Cetra shy away from the interaction, keeping their lips tight. Only the standing one begins to make his pace back along the ridge towards them.

Unlike the others, he wields a harpoon.

"We brought gifts, from Barret," Cloud continues, kneeling to Rapps and presenting a folded net. "He sends his regards."

Rapps takes the net with another flash of pointed teeth. "Tell the captain that the tuna schools are moving east, past the reef. I suspect good fishing for him there."

There's an audible hiss from across the platform, Aeris turning just in time to see the closing lips of the approaching guard. Rapps shakes his head, waving the younger Cetra off, but says nothing.

"Ignore him," he says, "but tell me, who is your pretty friend."

Brilliant eyes turn on Aeris. She flushes instantly, extending her hand gingerly: "My name is Aeris."

Instead of taking her hand, he wraps thin fingers lightly around her wrist. His skin is cold, but soft – _fresh_ – if she had to put a word on it. The contact makes her stomach flip and her heart speed up.

"Rapps," he responds. "Pleasure to meet you, Aeris." He fumbles the end of her name, the cadence of his speech slurred. He recoils suddenly, a wince eating into his features.

Zack kneels, touching the old man's back. "Hey, you okay, Tuna Treat?"

Rapps tenses, contorting his hand to a fist and clutching it to his exposed chest. He says nothing, but nods with a flexed jaw. His eyes are shut.

"Is he okay?" Aeris drops to one knee, taking Rapps' free hand as he continues to seize in pain.

Cloud scatters back towards the raft, his movement startling the other Cetra further down the dock, their eyes wide. He quickly removes his grey toolbox, sliding back to his friend. "Don't worry, Rapps," he says, removing a syringe from his kit, "I'll take care of you."

He flicks it twice before setting the thin needle against Rapps arm. "Ready?" Cloud asks.

There's a sudden crack as the harpoon cuts through the air, narrowly skinning Cloud's cheek before colliding into the dock. It impales horizontally, peeling back the metal in an echoed thud. Cloud is turned away, cupping his face. There is a smear of red on his hands.

Zack immediately bolts for the harpoon, just getting his fingers on the hilt before the adjacent waves swell onto the dock, vomiting a figure into him with enough speed to send both toppling. It's a man, and like the guard, he's a lean build with a sculpted chest. He easily gains control in his struggle with Zack, grappling around his throat and flexing long fingers.

Someone is screaming above the chime of the buoy's bell.

Aeris sets her shoulder in the Cetra's side, giving Zack just enough leverage to overturn him back to the ocean. Zack's face is pale, his eyes strained red as he fits his lungs around a breath, gripping to Aeris' jacket as she pulls him to his feet.

The ocean swells again, licking along the metal dock and lifting two more Cetra from the waves to standing positions effortlessly. They are tall, poised, and completely nude. Like their counter-parts, they are also armed with spears.

"Stop!" shouts Cloud, fumbling to his feet. His face is bloodied. "Stop! We mean no harm – we'll leave."

The clothed guard approaches, his stature that of stone, and where his tunic allows it, a circular emblem is carved center in his chest. He rounds on Cloud in two strides and wraps his hand around his throat before lifting him.

Aeris jerks against Zack's sudden grip, his hand muffling her cries. Cloud sputters at the end of the Cetra's reach, his lips turning blue as his legs twitch helplessly.

"We'll leave," Zack says loudly, eyeing the two closest men. "But you don't want to start something – we work for the city. You don't want this kind of shit show."

The two armed Cetra turn their heads to Cloud's attacker. Though they say nothing audibly, the turn of one's lip twitches. The clothed guard flexes his hand impressively, causing Cloud to cough in spit and blood, before dropping him. He lands hard, crumpling into a ball and cradling his face. The guard makes to raise his foot to strike the fallen man.

Rapps shuffles from his slouched seat, throwing himself over Cloud. He tenses, crinkling his eyes as he waits for the assault.

The Cetra touches his scarlet irises to Aeris, peeling back his blue lips to bare a grisly row of pointed teeth. He snaps them at her once, the points setting perfectly with each other before he _spits_ on Rapps back. Stepping back from the old man, he motions to Zack with a tilt of his head towards their raft.

They move quickly, ducking past the standing Cetra, and easing Rapps off of Cloud's form. Aeris is careful not to touch the old man, apologetically brushing her eyes to his. He simply nods, removing himself back to the far edge of the dock. The two standing Cetra make a show to sidestep him, giving a wide berth.

Zack hauls Cloud to his feet, half dragging him, before dumping him in the raft. Aeris collects the toolbox, her hands shaking as she hastily gathers Cloud's supplies; the syringe is full of blood. _Blue blood_. She clasps the lid shut, securing it in the raft with some cord.

She slides to the back of the boat, pulling Cloud's head into her lap and looking back at the watching Cetra. He is unconscious, but breathing. Zack is easing himself into the raft, untying with one hand – the other surrendered to the observing man. He shoves off the dock, coasting them out into open water.

It's then that she sees them. Their faces are pale, but eyes just as bright, as they stare from beneath the waves. Twenty floating faces, all watching silently as they drift away. Aeris turns her head sharply to the starboard side of the raft, more faces, this time half emerged from the waves, their teeth exposed and clicking.

The water sloshes in their open mouths, creating a froth as they snap their teeth at them; the ocean chattering in tiny _clicks_ of bone. A few Cetra have approached the raft, slapping their hands against the mesh, and dragging their nails around the edge. There's a concentrated pressure against the bed of the craft, the craft giving as it's prodded from below.

Aeris clutches Cloud's shoulder, exchanging a look with Zack as he counts their dark forms in the water.

" _Let's get out of here_ ," she hisses at him.

* * *

They returned to shore immediately, rushing Cloud to the doctor down the street – an older gentlemen by the name of Johnson. Barret practically carried him, but they were assured that there was no permanent damage. He needed rest.

Aeris sits on the dock just behind their shack, her hair undone and tussled by the inland breeze. The sky is turning dark with the hour, the sun long since eaten by the shadow of Junon above. She wears a light jacket, her pants rolled up to the knees and feet bare as she dips her toes in the water.

A leather binding of blank pages is on her lap. She'd meant to record their ventures and findings, but now, she merely taps the first page with her pen. Setting the journal aside, Aeris gazes out to the black waves as they lap against the dock.

She removes her toes from the water, folding them beneath her.

"You okay?" Zack asks. He's at the top of the steps that lead from their driveway.

She knows he's looking for an invitation, but her voice is hoarse. Instead, she turns over her shoulder at him and tries a smile. He frowns and descends the steps.

"You want to talk about it?"

She shakes her head, pulling her knees up to her chin.

Zack scratches the back of his head and shifts his weight. "Well. Come inside and get something to eat, it's getting cold out here and Cloud is starting to come around."

He extends a gloved hand, pulling her easily to her feet before wrapping his arm around her shoulders. As they trek back to the house he turns to her with a grin:

"Miss Cosmo yet?"

She laughs, completely forgetting her journal on the dock below as he ushers her inside.

Zack had prepared sandwiches in all his culinary wonder. Cloud sitting head at the table in a lax manner is already through his third. There are deep bruises around his neck, and he responds only with a curt nod at Aeris' greeting.

She is two bites through stale bread before she reaches absently for the pen behind her ear. She sets her food down abruptly and apologizes before heading for the door. Rushing down the gravel driveway, she takes the steps two at a time to the dock – _thankfully,_ her journal, just as she had left it on the corner.

She sighs. Only when she touches it does she notice how wet the cover is, the leather splashed along the spine. Flipping through the pages she inspects for damage. And then, she sees it:

The very first page is folded perfectly in half.


End file.
